by Laina Turner
The Internet could be a huge time suck. I was about to give up and figure out what I was going to cook us for dinner. Cody would be home from practice at six, which was only about fifty minutes away. But then I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.
There was an article about a drug dealer who had received a life sentence under the three strikes rule in California. That wasn’t what caught my eye. It was a picture of the felon coming out of the courthouse with his lawyer, a Mr. Jacob Rawlings. Jacob Rawlings was a dead ringer for my Jack.
I continued reading the article. It said that Jacob Rawlings was a popular criminal attorney in San Diego with a reputation for getting his clients off. In fact, he hadn’t lost a case in four years until the jury came back with a guilty verdict for Jose Gutierrez. The reporter went on to wonder if this was the end of the winning streak for Jacob Rawlings. I wondered that, too.
I typed Jacob Rawlings in the search bar and it pulled up several articles. Mostly on other cases he had won. I quickly skimmed them, looking for any tidbit of information that would help me. Jackpot! I thought, nearly jumping out of my seat when I read an article about Jacob Rawlings receiving death threats from the gang Jose Gutierrez was part of. According to the reporter, Mr. Gutierrez hadn’t been too happy when he was sentenced to life in prison and had been very vocal that Jacob Rawlings would pay. Jacob Rawlings was a single man, but his sister Marla Rawlings had also been threatened.
Marla? It said that both of them might have to go into witness protection. The article was dated four years ago.
I sat there and thought for a few minutes. Jack had arrived in town about four years ago and Sylvia maybe a year after that. They had to be Jacob and Marla Rawlings. I searched for Marla Rawlings and got a few hits. She had been an elementary school teacher—and an avid maker of snow globes. Ah-ha! This was them. It absolutely had to be. I picked up my phone to call Berklie when I heard the front door bang.
“Mom! I’m home. Where are you?” It was Cody back from practice. Shit! I hadn’t started anything for dinner.
“In the office,” I called out to him. I heard his bag drop and his footsteps moving my way.
“What are you doing in here, Mom?”
I quickly closed the browser. The news about Sylvia’s death was all over town, and even though he hadn’t known her, nor would he recognize her, I didn’t want to take the chance that he might connect the dots and realize I had been searching the Internet for information about a woman who was murdered. Big stretch, I knew, but as a mom I wanted to keep my son sheltered from anything bad. “Just poking around. Listen, I lost track of time and didn’t start dinner. How does pizza sound?”
“Pizza, yeah!!”
I smiled. Pizza and chicken nuggets—always guaranteed to please a kid. I decided I would order the pizza, and we could eat.
Then I would call Berklie after Cody was in bed.
Chapter 18
I yawned. It was mid afternoon, and I was so ready for a nap. Toddlers didn’t know how great they had it being able to have snacks and naptime every day.
There wasn’t much to do. This time of the afternoon had turned out to be the lull of the day, so I was pulling books out, dusting, and then putting them back. Mindless activity, which gave me a lot of time to think. And there were so many thoughts running through my head I just couldn’t make sense of it. When I got finished here, I really needed to just do a thought dump and get it all out of my head and on paper.
Our books were alphabetized by author, and when I got to the M’s I pulled out a section of books, and a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. What was this?
I sat the books back on the shelf, picked up the paper, and unfolded it. It was a series of numbers. Twenty-four dash, thirty-six dash, fourteen. Must be a combination of sorts maybe?
After that was what appeared to be an address, or rather part of an address: box thirty-seven ninety. Was it a P.O. Box?
I walked toward the counter to use the phone. My friend Lucy down at the post office could tell me if such a number existed.
So much for that idea, I thought, hanging up the phone. Lucy said there wasn’t a box with that number. I guess that would have been too easy. She did give me an idea, though. There was a bus station in town, and she said they had lockers for rent and maybe that was a locker number. I figured I would stop by there after work. It couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 19
Jack had been dodging my calls the last few times, but I was determined to talk to him. After everything I had found out, I wanted some answers and felt that since we had a relationship I deserved some.
His lying to me about who he was, while I could understand his position, was not okay in my book. He needed to talk to me. Since he wouldn’t return my calls, I decided to wait until he left the office, show up there, and force him to talk to me. I guess I was hoping that once he saw me in person he wouldn’t just ignore me. Though it could still happen. I guess it depended on how much he didn’t want to talk to me.
I was standing outside his building, waiting. I looked at my watch: it was a few minutes after five. He should’ve been coming out momentarily. He wasn’t one to work much past the normal business day. He had told me once that he used to be a workaholic and had realized life was too short for that. I would tease him about being such a great estate planner people were lining up to get to him. I teased because it seemed weird that an estate planner would work such crazy hours, but now that made much more sense to me.
I was just about to give up and go inside because I was tired of standing out here, plus the wind had picked up and it was getting a little chilly, when I saw him in the foyer pushing the door to come out. He didn’t see me, as he was looking at his phone. So I had to almost step right in front of him to get his attention.
“Remember me? You know, your girlfriend? The one whose calls you haven’t been returning.” Until just this second I had assumed his avoiding me had to do with the murder and the fact he was related to Sylvia. But now that we were face-to-face I realized he might just not want to see me anymore. Maybe he was a coward, and this was his way of ending things.
He looked at me, shocked at first. Then he smiled. “Trixie, I’m sorry. Things have just been so hectic lately. I meant to call, really I did.”
I looked at him skeptically. “Too busy to call? In all the time we have been together, when have you been too busy to call?”
He sighed. “I promise you, I have been busy. It has nothing to do with you. I hope you’re not too mad.”
He did look contrite, so maybe it wasn’t me, and it just was everything going on in his life that I knew, but he didn’t know I knew. Well, it was time to rectify that. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have time now?”
“Sure. Dinner?”
“That would be nice, but let’s go to my house rather than go out. We can get takeout.”
“Sounds good. Lead the way.”
I had parked close to him in an effort to make sure he couldn’t escape. So we walked to the parking lot together and drove to my house. I kept looking in my rearview mirror to make sure he was still behind me. While I felt he was sincere in wanting to talk to me, I also knew a lot had to be running through his mind, and I didn’t want to take any chances that he would try and duck out on me.
A few minutes later, I pulled into my driveway with Jack right behind me. We walked into my kitchen, and I went over to the junk drawer and pulled out some take out menus. I spread them on the counter. “What do you feel like?”
“I don’t know. Surprise me.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes and picked one up. I opened my eyes to see a Chinese menu in my hand. I turned to Jack. “Chinese it is. You want the usual?”
“Suits me just fine. Want me to pour us some wine?”
“That would be great.” This was so normal. Like many other evenings we had spent this way. It was hard to believe all that had happened.
I ordered
our food and then went in the living room where he had set our wine on the coffee table. We usually ate here at my house. It was comfortable, and we would talk about our day and just random things in general. Much different from the conversation we were about to have.
Settling on the couch, I took a sip of my wine. I found myself nervous and hoped the wine would help calm me.
“I really am sorry, Trix. I just can’t even begin to explain how crazy life has been.”
I held up my hand to stop him. “Oh, I think I can begin to understand. I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Ask away.” He leaned back on the couch with his glass.
“What is your relationship with Sylvia?”
He looked startled. I was sure he wasn’t expecting this to be my question, since we had already discussed it and he’d told me he barely knew her.
“I didn’t know her any better than you did.”
I had been halfway hoping he would just admit everything without me having to ask the question, but I could see it wasn’t going to be that simple. “Jack, cut the bullshit. I know.”
“Know what?” He looked nervous, not quite sure what I knew and not sure if wanted to know.
“About Sylvia. Or should I say Marla. Or Sarah for that matter.” I paused to let what I just said sink in.
His eyes widened, and then his posture became soft, and he set down his wine and put his head in his hands. After a few minutes he lifted his head up. I could see worry in his eyes.
“How did you find out?”
“I was curious. Things just didn’t seem to add up. So I went searching for answers on the Internet. Google did the rest.”
“It was that easy?”
“Pretty much. I mean, I’m a librarian not a detective.” I wasn’t going to mention the help we had from Alex. Jack didn’t need to know, and the fewer who did know the better.
“Oh my God. What have I done?” He reached over for his glass of wine and drank it in one gulp then reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.
I put my hand on his. “Jack, please tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”
“How can you help? I killed my sister!” He saw my shocked look. “Not literally, but my actions are what got her killed.”
Not that I had thought for a minute he’d killed Sylvia, but his exclamation had taken me off guard. “I know you didn’t kill her, but what happened?”
“It’s such a long story that I’ve tried to forget, but it keeps coming back to haunt me.”
“Take your time, Jack. I know this isn’t easy.”
He looked at me. “How much do you know?”
I shrugged. “I think quite a bit, but why don’t you tell me everything anyways. To make sure I’ve got it right.”
He sighed then paused as if to gather his thoughts. Taking another sip of wine, he swallowed and started talking. “I used to be a criminal attorney in California. San Diego to be specific. I came out of law school and spent time in the public defenders office and got recruited by one of the top criminal defense firms in town. I hadn’t planned on criminal law in school—or estate planning for that matter.”
He smiled at me. “But the money they threw at me was more than I could imagine. I started out not liking the fact that I was helping career criminals get off. This firm handled the big players. Those who had the money to pay a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour fee. They weren’t your average petty criminals. I soon lost sight of the people I was defending because I got caught up in the thrill of winning. I was good, and unfortunately the police were often overworked and therefore made mistakes. I excelled at finding those mistakes. I went a few years not losing a case, becoming more and more cocky and putting more and more in my bank account to the point that I didn’t care whom I defended. “I am ashamed to say I lost sight of my own moral code. This all peaked when I lost my first case in four years. I was defending a known drug lord who’d had a multi-million dollar business running cocaine and heroin back and forth across the border. The police and the DEA had been looking at him for a long time, and therefore they took their time and meticulously prepared the evidence they needed to arrest him.
“I assume you’re talking about Jose Gutierrez?” I broke in.
Jack raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I wasn’t able to work my usual magic, and I lost the case. Needless to say, my client was less than thrilled. He had been given a life sentence, and under the three strikes rules would not be eligible for parole. He would die in prison with no chance to get out. A few weeks after sentencing, I started getting threats both at my office and at home. I told the police and hired a bodyguard. Losing the case and the subsequent threats had made me start to realize that I was on the wrong path. Aside from being concerned with my own safety, I felt a lot of guilt. Especially when they started bothering my sister, Marla. Whom you know as Sylvia.
“They started by harassing her as they had me. Threatening notes to her home and work, a dead cat on her front porch. Things like that. It was more a nuisance at first, although Marla was much more frightened than I was. She wasn’t used to being around the criminal element. After a few months, things escalated. I was honestly expecting to die any day, and as much as I didn’t want to fear the same for Marla, I did. I knew I wouldn’t be able to protect her for the rest of her life. If they wanted me dead, if they wanted her dead, it would happen.
“I went to them and asked what they wanted to leave me and my family alone. I thought if I offered them money they might stop, but they wanted more than money. They knew about Marla’s snow globe hobby. They had obviously been tracking her for a while and thinking about this. They wanted her to smuggle drugs in her snow globes.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “Those things aren’t that big.”
“You’d be surprised at how much cocaine you can pack into a false bottom of one of those things. They’re light and don’t cost much to ship, and she already had a lucrative business making and selling them across the world so no one would think twice.”
“I guess. It just doesn’t seem like that method could handle the volume. Though, what do I know? It’s not like I’m used to smuggling drugs. I’ve never even done cocaine.”
“It’s simple really. The snow globes could hold about a week’s supply for an average recreational user. The biggest drawback for those recreational users is buying it. That’s the biggest way to get caught, the buying. Frankly, the snow globe thing was genius. I just wish it hadn’t been my sister who had the means to smuggle for them.”
“I guess that makes sense. Why didn’t they just open their own snow globe business? One they could control one hundred percent?”
Jack gave a wry grin. “They did control her one hundred percent. In fact, her real customers got pushed off because she’d had so many snow globes to make to ship the drugs in. They were looking at a way to automate the snow globe-making process when she finally came to me and said she didn’t care if they killed her. She wasn’t doing it anymore. That’s when we decided to make a run for it.”
“And that’s how you landed here?”
“Yes, in an indirect way. We made a few stops between there and here to put more distance between them and us. It doesn’t look like we did a very good job.”
“Jack, are you sure it’s them who killed Sylvia—I mean Marla? You’ve been gone for a few years now. Would they really keep trying to find you after all this time?”
“You don’t know these people. It has to be them.”
“Then why are you still here? If they really are the ones who killed her, then wouldn’t they be after you, too?”
“Yes. Trust me, I walk around expecting it at any moment.”
“But the fact is you are sitting her very much alive. Do you think you could possibly be wrong, and Sylvia’s—sorry, I mean Marla’s—murder isn’t related?”
“It has to be. Who else would murder her? The only person who had a good reason was Berklie, and I know she didn’t do it. I tol
d Marla she was stupid to get involved with Tom, but she was in love and just wouldn’t listen.”
“So was it you she came to see that day in the office?”
“Yes. She had received some threatening emails. Neither one of us thought they were related to the past. The wording just wasn’t the way those guys talked, but it was scary just the same. I told her she should lay low for a while, but as usual she didn’t listen. My sister was headstrong just like our mother,” he said fondly.
“I hate to ask this, but are your parents really dead?”
“Yes. In a car crash. That part of my past I was truthful about. I’m really sorry, Trix. I didn’t mean to lie, and now I’m afraid you might be in danger knowing all this. What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure we can figure this out. Do you have the emails that were sent threatening her?”
“Yes, out in my briefcase. I’ll go get them.”
He walked away to get his briefcase out of his car, and I just sat there, amazed at what he had just told me. It sounded like an episode of Law and Order. Not a real life situation that I was involved in. I was trying to wrap my brain around all of it when he walked back in. He unzipped his case and pulled out a manila file folder with a stack of papers and placed them in front of me.
“Here. These are all of them.”
I picked them up and started reading:
You think you’re so great. You’re not. Stop stealing!
You might think you can hide from me but I will find you!
I’m getting closer